


he was an anarchist, or so he thought

by angaria



Series: war is unjustified [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anarchy, Angst, Betrayal, Dream Smp, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explosions, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Festival, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Letters, Loneliness, Minecraft, No Happy Ending Fest, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Rebellion, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Techno needs a hug, Technoblade-centric, Tommy needs a hug, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, War, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, kind of? a little at the end, l'manberg, like just a hint to family, no beta we die like men, techno is an anarchist and you wont forget it, wilbur is kinda crazy in this one, with some of Tommy povs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angaria/pseuds/angaria
Summary: Technoblade was an anarchist, and he would never forget that.Even as he fires the crossbow to severe the connection with the people he loved the most.Because, if he wasn't an anarchist, what would he be?(Or, Tubbo's execution from Technoblade's perspective, and his slant on himself and the concept of anarchy.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot
Series: war is unjustified [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989346
Comments: 8
Kudos: 225





	he was an anarchist, or so he thought

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo!! i am back :))
> 
> disclaimer: this is all for fun, and in honour of the dream smp, this is in no way a correct or definite portrayal of techno, whether it be persona or real life :) it's just writing and fiction based off the events occuring in the smp :D
> 
> hope you enjoy the fic, and please leave some kudos/feedback if you wish :)

Technoblade was an anarchist.

Technoblade was an anarchist and that was a fact no one could deny. He liked anarchy, he liked chaos, he was an anarchist. It was a solid fact, something so straightforward that no one could argue with.

He joined Pogtopia because he was an anarchist. He joined Pogtopia because they were losing, because they were standing up against a government of sorts. Truth to be told, he was starting to find the Antarctic Empire a little boring lately, with their server’s ever dwindling population, trades were at an all time low. No trades meaning no one to pick fights with, no blood to be shed.

So there Technoblade sat, bored out of his mind, bloodlust forever unsatisfied until he got a letter from Tommy. He liked Tommy, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, least of all the boy himself. He liked how the blonde could match anyone’s energy, his ever burning passion for justice, bright determination sparkling in his eyes, so clear as if it were a reflection of his own.

But, liking Tommy wasn’t enough to make him leave the comfort of his Empire, no. He was an anarchist, he was hungry for blood, he told himself. _As an anarchist, it’s your job to do so. It’s your job to cause chaos. This government is unfit. Go._

And so, he went. When he got there, rumours of a festival had already spread. Pogtopia was in shambles. Tommy, ever so optimistic, rambles on about his newest strategy to take down Schlatt. He only listens when he hears bloodshed. Wilbur, a shell of the man he once was before, spends his days in the archives, pondering over books with torn pages and betrayals that happened too long ago, the ones he can't seem to forget. 

Techno tries to laugh at the chaos of it. He ignores the tightness in his chest whenever he glances at Wilbur, head dipped in books, tears falling down his face as the jukeboxes around him play a tune that never matches his emotions.

The festival comes around. Schlatt does not know that he is in Pogtopia, and soon enough, a coffee-stained letter reaches him a few days later, an invitation to the celebration of democracy. He accepts.

He’s sitting on a wooden seat, legs crossed as he feels the heat of the sun burning down on his exposed neck, taunting him for the chaos he hasn’t caused yet. 

_(It’s too hot today. )_

The twenty-or-so people around him start to cheer as a young boy, clad in a dark suit slowly approaches the stage. 

_(Schlatt makes all his minions wear a suit.)_

He steals a small glance at Wilbur, eyes glazed over, sitting back with an indescribable emotion painted on his face. He looks at Tommy, lips pursed and eyes fiery with rage. They’re hidden in a small caving made by the boy in some stone structure. Techno hopes they realise their hiding space isn’t really that good.

Tubbo, he thinks the boy’s name is. As the boy is lowering the mic stand, eyes wide, ready to make the speech, Techno tunes him out. _He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about stupid speeches, or democracy, or companionship. He doesn't care. He can’t care. He can’t-_

_“Technoblade.”_ A name. That’s his name. _Oh._

He looks up, and the sun has changed its position. 

The boy, sweating in his suit, has been surrounded by some sort of concrete _(And why is it yellow? And why is yellow so familiar?)_ , face visible as the front block had been replaced with a simple spruce fence.

His name is called again, and he feels his legs betray him, move on auto-pilot as he slowly walks towards the stage. 

“Take out your crossbow,” Schlatt commands. Now, he doesn’t listen to anyone usually, but this was a weapon he was being asked to wield. A weapon, wood worn but sturdy, glowing with enchantments and power, and he couldn’t resist holding it in his hands now that he had been reminded of it. 

He takes it out of his inventory.

A stack of fireworks was dropped in front of him, and he was loading it into his crossbow- _and why was he loading fireworks into his crossbow in the first place?_

Schlatt smirks, and asks him to shoot.

_Shoot? Shoot who? There was no one to shoot but-_

_Oh._

He slowly averts his gaze, facing the young boy. He couldn't have been over sixteen or seventeen, and he was shaking in his feet. Remnants of Schlatt’s booming voice had come back to him, vague descriptions like ‘traitor’, ‘betrayal’ and ‘execution’ made its way into his head and _oh_ , he had been too familiar with this all before, hadn’t he?

A closer inspection of the boy’s eyes showed recognition. He was a double agent for Sclatt, wasn't he? He remembered. He was Tommy’s best friend, he was on their side.

He had been found out, and now Schlatt wanted him to- _oh._

Thoughts reeled back and forth in his head. Schlatt, _Schlatt_ made him plan his own execution. The entire festival was a ruse, a celebration of the death of an insignificant soul, a fool who had put his head on a guillotine for the price of justice that was never going to be repaid.

He pushed down the nausea brewing in his stomach as he remembered the boy marching into the ravine they had called their home, bright-eyed and loudly discussing with Tommy the right colour-combinations for his balloons. 

_Why was he remembering this now?_

He felt Tommy’s insistent whispers at the back of his head, the pixelated chat at the side of peripherals filled with messages he tried to ignore.

_“Techno, don’t do it. Don’t kill him. Don’t-”_

He raises the crossbow.

He tries to ignore the shouts of Schlatt, and the whispers of Tommy as he focuses his gaze.

Technoblade is an anarchist. He is here for one main reason, and that is chaos. Death causes chaos. Death wreaks havoc. Death helps him get to his end goal. He is an anarchist.

He is an anarchist.

He is an anarchist- so _why_ are his hands quivering as he grips the wood with his second hand?

_Why_ does he bite the inside of his cheek to stop the painful feeling in his chest blossom out into his face?

_Why_ is his voice shaking as he makes a final promise in his ever monotone voice, “Tubbo, I’m sorry. I’ll make this as painless as possible” ?

He shouldn’t regret firing it as much as he does.

When the firework goes off, it’s already too late.

All three standing on the podium are killed instantly, Quackity, Schlatt and Tubbo all perished with a single shot.

He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, the shouts of anguish coming from another building, the dents made in his netherite armour as a puff of blonde hair hits it over and over again.

He is unaware of the gaze of a masked man, disapproval shining in his green eyes as he watches from afar.

He’s screaming- Tommy is screaming about betrayal and loss while Wilbur is laughing like a madman, and- _did he see this coming?_ Everyone is screaming, and _it’s all too much for him,_ and before he knows it, he’s swiveling on his feet to fire another shot at a crowd. And another. And another.

When it’s finally quiet, he turns around to see the hurt, pained look on the younger’s face, as he grips a cracked ender pearl in his hand. Snot is dripping down his face, and although he is filled with rage, the eyes always so filled with determination have never looked more dull. He grabs Wilbur and stomps away, and Technoblade can’t help but feel a pang of pain rush through his heart.

He is left alone on the stage, small fires carving marks into the wood around him, and he has never felt more undeserving of his crown.

He is an anarchist.

He is an anarchist, and that was all he ever was, is all he ever will be.

_No one tells him that he used to be a brother._

**Author's Note:**

> i loved writing this fic. if you didn't understand too well, it's mainly based off my theory on techno's self-imposed obsession with anarchy, and how he had kind of made it a part of his personality. in the war, he feels as if he's supposed to live up to that persona of himself that he created, even if it means betraying the ones he loves most (tommy, wilbur). he feels bound to the concept of anarchy, and feels the need to fulfill chaos at all times, because he doesn't know who he is without it.
> 
> hope you managed to catch that kind of vibe! i'm not too sure if i wrote it a bit too vague, and this fic can definitely be improved in so many more ways, so i'd also appreciate you leaving feedback in the comments :) 
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading! teehee :)


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